


Forgotten Wishes

by hafital



Category: Anne of Green Gables - Montgomery
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-25
Updated: 2004-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bosom friends and kindred spirits. Four separate moments in the friendship of Anne and Diana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lyrastar in the Yuletide 2004 Challenge. Many thanks to unovis_lj for the beta.

**I**  
The Language of the Trees

 

Two young girls sat among the splendor of the mayflowers, enjoying the late afternoon. One girl was dark with rosy cheeks and black soulful eyes. The other had a head of bright red hair with soft curls and shining gray eyes. They sat as princesses in the little corner of the woods they called Idlewild, speaking to each other of the mysteries of girlhood. A scented breeze blew playfully above their heads, making the trees sway and the leaves rustle a constant whisper.

"Listen to that, Diana. It's like the trees have their own language. Isn't it just the most poetical sound? I wish I could carry it with me always."

"I wonder what they're saying," said the dark-haired Diana, dreamily. It was a warm spring afternoon and the two girls had nothing better to do then while away the hour in dreams and fancies, building castles in the sky.

"They're telling their secrets, of course. Sometimes I feel I can almost understand them, if I sit perfectly still and hold my breath. But it's always just beyond my understanding. Imagine it, Diana. My hair becomes the leaves, my arms become branches, and my feet take root in the earth. Wouldn't it be marvelous to be a tree?

Diana wasn't so sure about this. "I don't know, Anne. You could get hit by lightning or you'd get tree rot, for sure. That's what happened to that old maple that used to stand outside our parlor window. Fell down dead after a bad storm and crashed through the window. It made the most awful sound, too."

"I can imagine! I suppose you are right, Diana," said Anne with a sigh, giving way to reason and respectability.

"It does sound like they're trying to tell us something." Diana shivered, looking somewhat apprehensively up at the gently swaying branches. "Maybe about the future. Our future. They're telling us what our lives will be like. Maybe whom we're going to marry and how many children we'll have. And they're trying so hard to tell us but we can never understand them." Diana shivered again, surprising herself with her little speech. Practical Diana never said such things. What would her mother think?

"Diana Barry! Why, that's it. That's exactly what they're saying. I can hear it now. They're telling us all about the future. They're saying I'll never marry due to a tragical love affair where my beloved died in a terrible accident, leaving me broken-hearted and unable to love again, so I become a missionary, traveling all over the world saving lives, but never staying too long at any one place, lest I fall in love again." Anne wiped a tear away.

"Oh, Anne, is that really what they're saying? Tell me what they say about me?" Diana sat up eagerly, clasping her hands, believing that Anne really could hear the trees and understand their whispering. When Anne had that shining light behind her eyes, she could believe anything Anne said. "Do they say whom I will marry? Is he handsome and tall? I couldn't _bear_ to be married to someone ugly and short. I just _couldn't!_ Oh, please tell me."

"Of course he is. Your future husband will be the tallest and handsomest of all, dashing and wicked also. But you tame and defrost his cold heart with your beauty and your dark flashing eyes."

Diana stared wide-eyed at Anne. "Why, I can almost picture him. We will be handsome and dashing together, and be ever so envied by everyone." Diana lay down upon the grass, gazing up at the friendly trees with a rapt expression, dreaming of her future prince.

Anne smiled and watched her dear sweet Diana. But her smile faded a little as she listened to Diana flesh out her prince in details and girlish ideals. Diana was hers now, her dearest most beloved friend. Her _bosom_ friend, closer than a sister. But one day, some dark unnamed dashing prince of a man would come and take her away. It was a sudden bitter thought, and Anne's heart broke for her lost Diana.

"Is there something the matter?" asked Diana, wondering why Anne had fallen silent.

Anne found a smile and put it on. "No, only that it's getting late and Marilla will be expecting me."

The two girls picked themselves up and parted ways with a kiss and promise to meet the next day. Anne watched Diana's receding figure run through the woods and back to Orchard Slope. She walked back to Green Gables slowly, each step bringing home the future torment she knew she would suffer at the hands of some unknown man, now despised with all the venom her sweet loving heart could muster. Oh, how she hated him, that future husband of Diana's! No one could love her as Anne did.

Anne went home and sat by the east window and imagined in great detail Diana's eventual wedding. It broke her heart and she sobbed bitterly until evening fell and darkness settled all around her.

 

**II**  
The Wood Sprite Dances

 

Anne skipped down Lover's Lane, lost in a world of beauty. Fall had come to Avonlea and with it came the brilliant colors of dark gold, red, yellow, and even some deep royal purple. What a gorgeous and perfectly scrumptious world this was! Her starry eyes looked with fresh wonder all around, drinking in each golden leaf that fell like a forgotten wish at her feet.

She was on an errand from Marilla to take a jar of gooseberry jam and some freshly baked shortbread to Mrs. Lynde. Unfortunately, the finery of Autumn held more power than Marilla's stern command that Anne not dillydally along the way if she could help it, and the basket of jam and baked goods sat unheeded and forgotten on a small heap of multicolored leaves while Anne, overcome with the sudden thrill of color all around her, was moved to dance amidst the falling leaves. She looked like a perfect wood sprite, carefree as the wind, at home among the fairies. Oh, how she thrilled to the song of the wild woods.

That was how Diana Barry found her. On a near identical mission, Diana carried her own basket on her way to the manse with some preserves for the Reverend and his wife.

Anne gasped when she spotted Diana. They stood staring at each other, mouths agape, speechless. They were forbidden to speak to each other and so all they could do was stand and stare. Diana looked at her with astonishment and Anne felt her cheeks flush red. To be caught like that, even by someone as sympathetic and as much a kindred spirit as Diana, was very off-putting and Anne's little impulsive soul reared up in defense. Her eyes flashed and she raised her chin in defiance. But then the light changed in Diana's eyes and the look of astonishment eased into one of hurt and Anne quickly softened her expression.

Hampered as they were by Diana's mother's unyielding and most unsympathetic order that Diana have nothing to do with Anne Shirley, the two girls had only their eyes to communicate with.

_How I miss you, dearest,_ said Anne.

_Me too,_ said Diana. _Oh, me too. Don't be angry with me, Anne. I love you more than ever._

_Of course I'm not angry with you._

_Promise!_ Diana took a step forward.

_An oath is an oath, Diana. I will love you to the day I die._

_Oh, Anne._ A tear slipped down Diana's face.

The two girls stood ramrod stiff, their eyes glowing, their earnest hearts nearly bursting. If a stranger had happened by at that moment, it would have been a very curious picture indeed. He or she would have been hard pressed to decipher just what that little tableau could mean.

Anne took up her basket and bravely walked past Diana, but as they came close, Anne held out her hand. Diana did the same and their fingers brushed against each other in an illicit touch. Anne's heart beat strong against her chest at the moment of contact, but she continued on, thinking how terribly romantic it all was.

Only a few steps away, Anne heard footsteps running back towards her and she turned just as Diana flew into her arms. For one brief moment they embraced. Diana kissed Anne messily on the cheek and then as quickly as she came she ran away.

"Good-bye, my Diana." Anne sighed and then hurried down the road.

 

**III**  
Moonlight and Roses

 

A trill of girlish laughter floated down the stairs and made Marilla Cuthbert raise her head and listen. She had half a mind to go up to the little over the porch gable room and tell those two girls it was high time they quieted down and got to sleep. But she continued sewing instead. How sweet were the sounds of young voices, she admitted, wondering not for the first time how she ever got on before Anne came to Green Gables. Let them have their fun. Soon the summer would end and there would be school and Anne would have her work set out for her with the Queen's entrance class starting. And they'd had precious little time together since Mrs. Barry finally relented and allowed Anne and Diana to be friends again. Marilla sighed and set her sewing down, staring off into the darkness, dreaming of past knowns and future unknowns. Another trill of laughter reached her ears and she smiled.

If one followed the sound of that laughter up the stairs and into the room on the right, one would find the tall red-headed Anne Shirley stalking about the room with a blanket for a cape and an old beaten hat of Matthew's as a head-dress. A smooth stick substituted for a sword, tied to her waist by a yellow sash from an outgrown dress.

"I am Count Rodrigo _de_ Vevaire," said Anne in a deepened voice. "I have come across many mountains and valleys, through storms and high seas, because I have heard of thy loveliness, fair maiden. Rosemund, you are mine. Diana," Anne's voice returned to normal. "Rosemund is sitting demurely, not laughing like a little goose."

"I'm sorry, Anne. You just look so funny like that. Is this better?" Diana attempted to straighten her face and don a serious expression. She sat as demurely as she knew how.

"Much. Use your imagination, Diana. I know it's just an old sun hat and Marilla's cast off blanket, but it is the best we have. You must imagine it is a long black velvet cape with a red satin lining. And the hat has a splendid red feather. Count Rodrigo will never ravish the fair Rosemund at this rate. There, just like that, that's perfect."

"But I don't want to be ravished," said Diana. Mother would never approve, she thought. Although it did sound rather an exciting and thrilling thing to have done to you.

"Not you, dearest -- Rosemund, remember. Now, again. Rosemund!" exclaimed Count Rodrigo so suddenly that Diana gasped. "I have come for you."

Startled into remembering her lines, Rosemund countered prettily. "Oh, sir. Please go away. I love Antonio. I could never love you. "

"Antonio is a worthless peasant," growled the count. "Your father has promised you to me in exchange for paying his debts and saving him from disgrace. I shall have you if I have to kill Antonio with my bare hands. No one betters me! No one. Where is he? I'll kill him?" Anne gnashed her teeth and swung her "sword" back and forth.

"Oh, Anne. That's marvelous. You look so menacing it gives me chills." Diana clapped her hands.

"Quiet. You must cry out in fear and then faint so I can ravish you."

"Oh, right. I almost forgot. " Diana gave a little shriek, and staggered around the room before falling somewhat heavily backwards onto the bed. Anne pounced on her and they both laughed as Anne tickled Diana, their preferred method of ravishment. They wrestled for a moment before letting the charade go. Divesting themselves of their costume attire, they blew out the candle, said their prayers quickly, and scrambled into bed.

Still much too energized for sleep, Diana turned to Anne and they cuddled under the sheets. "I wonder what it's like to be ravished," asked Diana, in a somewhat hushed tone. "It must be horrid or all those heroines wouldn't take such fright at the suggestion."

"Do you think?" Anne thought there was something exciting and terribly appealing about the whole ravishing business, but her innocent girlish heart couldn't quite figure it out.

"Do you know what Jane Andrews told me?" said Diana. "She told me she saw Melody Gillis and that Shepard boy _kissing_ behind the Shepard barn. I think it's positively _disgraceful._ Melody is only sixteen but carries on like she's eighteen. But the Gillises were always boy crazy. Imagine letting Hughie Shepard kiss you?"

"Not likely. I would rather go without kissing my whole life than have to kiss a boy with that lump of a nose." Anne felt herself to be quite the authority on noses. "But is it so very terrible for them to kiss? Sixteen is nearly eighteen, after all. Some women are married at sixteen."

"Mother says it's much too young. I'm to be twenty-one before I can marry. Besides, Jane said it was _scandalous_ how they were going on. She refused to describe it, said it was wicked even to try."

"Jane has the tendency to be rather prudish. I have always held it doesn't do to be one extreme or the other, although I don't doubt Melody and Hughie _were_ doing something very wrong."

"Do you think it's difficult to kiss? My older cousin Amelia once told me she always knew if a boy was good enough to be her beau by his kiss. If he kissed well, then she kept him. If not, then she never gave him the time of day afterwards. That's how she picked her husband. He kissed her so well she had to say yes when he proposed."

"It doesn't look like it takes any great skill," said Anne dubiously, unwilling to take Cousin Amelia's word on it.

"Oh, but it must."

"Well, how does one get good at it, then?"

"Practice, like everything else, I suppose," said Diana.

Anne thought about this for a moment. "We could practice together. That way we would be good at it before we ever started. I _am_ curious to know what all the fuss is about. Marilla had one of those French girls up here a few months ago to help with the sewing for the Ladies Aid Society, and she would just go on and on about her beaux and how one day I would understand and go hunting a man just as she does. Marilla heard her talking and got rid of her right quick. I daresay all this kissing business _is_ wicked judging by the looks Marilla and Mrs. Lynde gave each other after that French girl left. I'm a good judge of looks, Diana, and I can tell you with all assurance that that look spelled fire and brimstone for any and all talkative French girls from then on to the end of eternity. Here, sit up and I'll kiss you. I'll be the boy and you be the girl."

Diana dutifully sat up and Anne took hold of her shoulders before leaning in and pressing her lips to Diana's lips. They'd kissed often before. After their long separation when Diana was forbidden to even look at Anne, they came together in a frenzy of hugs and kisses. But this was different. Their previous shows of affection were innocent of anything but the pure young love girls often have for each other. Now the touch of innocence was still there, but it was colored with the spice of illicitness. A quiver went through Anne. She took Diana's head in her hands as she'd seen several of the older orphans do at the asylum in Hopetown.

Diana made a small noise and then instinctively moved her head and opened her mouth. They continued to kiss for several moments, before finally parting with a small gasp. Anne's eyes shone in the meager moonlight and Diana's eyes widened. They were silent with only their breathing speaking their unvoiced thoughts. Diana tasted like moonlight and roses. Anne, like sunshine and fresh cut flowers.

"That was good," said Anne, still somewhat breathless.

"Yes," said Diana. "But I think you're supposed to hold me like this and then kiss me."

"Oh. All right. Again?"

Diana nodded and they crushed together. They practiced for several minutes until Anne was quite certain they were the best kissers ever and Diana complained of an aching back from being bent over backwards while Anne kissed her, just like lovers in a novel. They settled down into bed and promptly drifted off to sleep, but not before agreeing that kissing was great fun and that they would certainly practice it more often, to get it exactly right.

 

**IV**  
Tea-time Endings

 

Anne approached Orchard Slope in her second-best dress, a pretty pale green light summer affair that set off her hair and her eyes. Anne Shirley was no longer the starry-eyed young waif she had been when she first came to Avonlea and Green Gables. She had grown into a tall young woman and lived to see the ripe old age of sixteen. She was just home from her year at Queen's, still alight with the knowledge of winning the Avery scholarship and the prospect of attending Redmond in the fall. A queer feeling in the pit of her stomach bloomed when she thought of it. It all seemed so unthinkable that she would ever be a B.A. She walked as only a soon-to-be B.A. could, with a slight lift to her head and jaunty step, and knocked on the Barry door.

Perhaps, if one looked closely, one could see that all that finery and pomp could not truly disguise the inherent starriness that still resided in her eyes, or the impish delight she got from the flowers and the trees and the soft scented Avonlea breeze. Anne, for all her airs and mannerisms was still half girl, but the woman she would become blossomed within her.

Diana Barry waved from the window and opened the door. She smiled broadly and then put on a serious face. "Miss Shirley. It is so good to see you. Please do come in. You must stay for tea."

"Thank you, Miss Barry. I confess that I came here with no other intention than to partake of your delightful company." Equally solemn, Anne held out her hand and Diana touched it briefly in a prim little handshake. All at once they burst out laughing, becoming girls again, and kissed each other before moving further into the parlor.

"Oh Diana, I cannot tell you how excited I am. This is simply marvelous. We have the whole place to ourselves?"

"Yes. Mother and Father left this morning for Charlottetown and won't be back until tomorrow night. This is the first time they've allowed me to stay here alone while they were away. Here, let me take your hat. Have a seat, Miss Shirley, I have tea all ready. And, I have a surprise for you."

Anne's eyes shone with laughter when Diana showed her the bottle of currant wine. "Raspberry cordial?" They laughed again, chattering quickly about that unlucky event so long ago that had caused them such heartache. To think they could look back to that old mishap with laughter now, Anne truly felt old and mature.

"I thought it fitting to have. Rather like correcting a past mistake. Let me pour you a glass. Only one, mind. I don't want Miss Cuthbert accusing me of setting you drunk."

They laughed again. They were quite old enough now that is was not unseemly for them to have a glass of wine with their tea or supper.

Diana played hostess and Anne was the perfect guest. They shared gossip.

"Did you hear about Hezekiah Sloane and that wild pig of his?" Diana asked, conspiratorially, sipping her wine.

Anne refilled her glass. "That he was caught riding it to Church? I'm not one to judge too harshly the behavior of others, Diana, allowing as I have always had the tendency for misadventures and impulsive scrapes myself, but I must say riding a pig _is_ taking things too far."

They knitted and crocheted industriously, admiring each other's work.

"Diana, you must teach me that stitch. It's simply divine. Wherever did you learn it?" effused Anne, between dainty sips.

"Oh, it's easy as a wink. I learned it from _The Lady's Book of Knitting._ Let me show you." Diana set down her glass and turned towards Anne.

They sat quietly and enjoyed each other's company, having that special element to their friendship that allowed for silence and the simple enjoyment of being alive and together. Anne dreamed, gazing out the window. Diana smiled and watched Anne, pleased to have her home.

And through it all the level of liquid in the container of currant wine slowly decreased until there was decidedly less wine and much more empty space.

Anne looked down at the dainty doily she crocheted and noticed that her hands kept moving differently than she wanted them to, and that everything kept swimming about most disconcertingly. A sudden thought came to her. "I'm drunk!" She looked up and promptly overshot the gesture and nearly fell off her chair.

"Anne, are you all right?" But Anne wasn't alone in her consumption of alcohol and Diana found herself staggering slightly as she reached to assist Anne in righting herself.

"Diana, I cannot quite believe it, but I think I may have had more than one glass of wine."

"Oh, Anne. It happened again!" They both looked, somewhat crookedly, at the now empty bottle of wine.

"What are we going to do?" Diana edged towards hysterics.

"We must be calm." Anne stood up, wobbled a bit, and then took Diana's hand. "Come. Let us lie down and let it pass. It is not the end of the world, Diana."

Bravely, and also diagonally, they held each other up and fumbled and bumped their way up the stairs and into Diana's bedroom, where they flopped indecorously on to the bed. Anne marveled for a moment at how much swirlier the world became when drunk. It was almost beautiful, but intensely unsteady. All said and done, she preferred the even ground of sobriety. She gripped the bedclothes and prayed for the room to stop spinning, groaning as her stomach flip-flopped over.

"Oh, don't be sick, Anne," cried Diana, face down.

"I am trying, Diana."

After a few moments, the worst of the drunkenness eased and the two tipsy girls were able to face each other without the threat of disaster between them. They were soon giggling madly, the slightest thing eliciting great big peals of laughter.

"Anne," whispered Diana, "can I tell you a secret? I've been wanted to tell you for _days_ now, but there hasn't been a moment. I'm simply _dying_ to tell you. I'm so glad you are home."

"Diana!" exclaimed Anne, "I insist you tell me instantly."

"Oh Anne, you won't believe it."

"I assure you I will."

"But I hardly believe it myself."

"Diana, I have an imagination, but even I am unable to read your mind. Dearest, what is it?"

Diana took a breath. "Do you know how we've always wondered what it would be like to be kissed? Truly kissed by a man? Well, I've been kissed!"

Anne gasped. "Diana _Barry!_ I demand you tell me by whom you have been kissed. And from the beginning." She sat up abruptly, but then flopped back down when the world began spinning all over again.

"It was Fred Wright. Oh, Anne, it was so romantic--"

At first, Anne thought she misheard. She stared dumbly at Diana. _Fred?_ Fred _Wright?_

"--_You'll_ know one day what it is like to be truly kissed. _You'll_ see. It was last Tuesday, after the prayer meeting. You know how the Wrights have always been close friends with my parents. Mrs. Wright and Mother were old school chums from way back when. Well, all winter Fred has been asking me to walk with him--"

Diana stopped to swallow a breath. Anne continued to stare. She could not have been more shocked at the revelation of Fred Wright than if Diana had said she had kissed Hezekiah Sloane. Somehow romance and Fred didn't work together in Anne's head. This was one time when her imagination failed her.

"-- and last Tuesday he kept me back, away from the others, and when no one was around he pulled me behind a tree and stole a kiss before I could say one word--"

_Fred Wright,_ repeated Anne, feverishly. Oh, this is... _this is_... Anne could not finish her thought.

"-- and not just any kiss, but a wonderful soul-trembling kiss. I can still feel it. It was the most romantic thing, Anne, you have no idea. Of course--

Anne certainly had an idea, her imagination kicking in and giving her an image of Fred's jolly, round, _ordinary_ face against Diana's rosy cheeks. She closed her eyes.

"-- I told him to stop, right away, and that he mustn't do that ever again, without my permission. There is such a thing as decency, after all. I'm not a Gillis or a Pye, and better he knows it before too long. Oh, Anne, are you happy for me? Nothing has really happened. It was just one kiss, and I'm not at all sure of his true feelings."

Anne nodded dumbly, Diana was wrong. Everything had happened. Everything and nothing. Nothing would be the same again.

She shook herself out of her surprise and took Diana's pretty head in her hands. "Diana, dearest. Of course I'm happy for you, if you are. This marks an important event, Diana, do you realize? You have taken the first true step towards womanhood." Anne was very solemn. She could not entirely disguise the sudden ache she felt at this unseen turn of events, but she was loath to hurt Diana by revealing her true thoughts and emotions. She felt close to the depths of despair, her old childish expression. On one side lay her past and on the other her future. She looked at Diana and saw some of what she was thinking reflected back at her in those dark eyes she'd always loved so much.

"Anne, do you remember how we used to practice?"

Anne nodded.

"How I told you about what Cousin Amelia said? About knowing by a man's kiss? Oh Anne, I wish I could describe it to you." Diana paused. She touched Anne's face. "I can show you."

Anne nodded. They came together slowly and gently, with Diana guiding. The kiss between them grew beyond their previous practicing. More emotion and feeling. Diana still tasted like moonlight and roses.

Clothing was pushed aside and with the aid of wine-lost inhibitions and constraints, their young inexperienced hands fumbled with lacings and buttons, shoes and stockings, until they lay undressed. It was instinct that led them and instinct that showed them how to touch and how to caress and tease until they found a kind of completion with each other. For that one evening, in the first bloom of their young adulthood, they shared a moment that went deeper than friendship.

In the morning, they were quiet and said it was the headache from the wine. They put right the house, which had been left in a slight state of disorder from the night before. They spoke lightly and freely, as they always had. And as much as nothing had changed, everything had changed. They were no longer girls.

Their memories of that night were fuzzy, no doubt the fault of all that wine. They never spoke of it, but sometimes Anne would catch herself looking at Diana and remember the light on Diana's skin or the way she held her breath. Other times, she would catch Diana looking at her, and she would flush and feel warm all over. They were dear friends, and would always be so, never be cool with each other, never hiding or denying what happened, but also never speaking of it nor acknowledging it. It simply was.

And yet, when Anne stood as Diana's bridesmaid at her wedding, when she kissed Diana Barry for the last time, knowing that every time afterwards she would be Diana Wright, Anne allowed a small hidden part of herself to mourn and cry the passing of something sweet and lovely that could never be.


End file.
